Awakening
by NathanHale2
Summary: Harry changes. During his summer few weeks after Voldemorts return, Harry begins hallucinate vast area's of battlescarded terraiin, filled with rotting corpses. Enemies covering fear, planets burnt to ashes. And responsible all of these doings is a MAN on a PALE HORSE. New nightmares start to haunt as he gains new powers, new allies and new enemies. HP/HG Pairing. YEAR 5
1. Chapter 1

Harry potter fanfic / Darksiders

Awakening

This is my first fan fic so please comment on how it was, if you liked it or not. And if anyone is interested I can add you to my beta reader list now enough of me lets get to the story.

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It was a cold, dark night. Harry shook himself free of his daze, slowly looking for any sign of Cedric. Noticing that his vision was unfocused, he frantically began to search for his glasses.

_No, No, NO! Where the hell could they be!? That blasted cup, was a Portkey! But where did it took us? _With various other thoughts drifting through his mind, Harry didn't notice that his vision slowly, ever so slowly shifted from blurred and half blind, to sharp. Harry stopped all his attempts for the search of his glasses or nevermind Cedric. Harry froze in place. Waving his hands trough his field of view. It was perfectly clear. Harry blinked multiple times unsure of what to make off it. _My vision has come BACK! How is this possible? Not that I'm complaining but something feels off._

Harry now for the first time since he arrived had a chance to „take in" the surroundings. _I can't belive it!_ Harry thought in utter horror. Ice cold chills, purged ruthlessly through his young, battered body and his eyes widened in fear. _Im in a bloody graveyard._ multiple tombstone in various forms and height, all shared one thing. Their degenerate state. Some were falling apart, others were mere dust of their former selves.

A sharp wind blew through the land of the dead causing Harry to shiver massively. _As if it wasn't creepy enough, now..._ Harry stopped in mid thought. Did he just hear a bird? Harry controlled his breathing, slowed it down to make less noise and strained his ears to pick up any possible noise. He waited a few seconds, nothing. The seconds became minutes still nothing. Harry eased a bit shaking his head slightly, mumbling to himself to stop imagining things, when a faint noise broke the silence in this dreaded place. „Cracka, Cracka, Cracka."

_What the hell?! Is..that a... Raven?_ Harry shook himself and shifted his gaze to the Cup and he saw a still figure lying with his back in the grass. Realisation, slowly ruthlessly dawned to Harry and Harry slowly picked up his pace and ran to the body. Under his ragged breath Harry continued to mumble: „No, no, no...NO!" As he reached the body his scream pierced through the deadly silenced, ice cold air. Unable to move he simply stared, at the dead body of Cedric Digory. His empty eyes staring into Harry's, burning the fiery hot emotion of guilt through his entire body. Harry tried to break the gaze when suddenly Cedric began to move his mouth. Harry's eyes widened in horror, he tried to scream but felt that no voice came from his lips. His body beginning to tense, Harry heard the hollow, cold voice of Cedric Digroy. It was only one word. But this one, single word, was enough for Harry to find back his voice and unleash a scream of utter horror and hurt. „Why?"

Harry sank to his knees sobbing, Cedric still looking at him with an look full of sorrow and shame. Slowly the dead man. began to lift his head and spoke with an deep, dead voice: „It's all your fault, Harry! It's all your fault! That I've died! Just because you wanted to do the right thing?! So we can both win the Cup for...what?! Hogwarts? Your self righteousness bought you only...misery." With these last words, Cedric's head slumped back to the ground with an soft _thumpf_. Lying still again. Harry's sobs echoed throughout the whole graveyard. After he regained some composure, Harry opened his mouth to respond only to scream in pain and anguish. His vision became blurry and soon went dark.

As the pain started to cease, his vision slowly came back. Harry felt numb and he looked down his body, only to find himself gagged with a rope, strung all over his body, binding him tight to a tombstone to his back. Harry's eyes widened in the realisation of where he now was. _OH NO! No, no, no. Please dear God why do I deserve this. I just want to wake up ok come on Harry, close your eyes count to ten and then you __find yourself back in your bed with these sons of bitch called my relatives. _But he didn't. Harry opened his eyes and saw his unrelenting Nemesis. „Riddle!" Harry spat out, but as soon as he said that wretched name, Harry noticed that something different about his enemy. His Image began to change violently, as well as the surroundings. Before Harry could regain his senses, Harry was pulled free from his bindings and getting sucked into a whirling maelstrom.

* * *

A faint noise twirled around his head, as Harry fruitlessly tried to open his eyes and subside the painful headache. The noise became louder and louder until it was becoming unbearable. It was the sound of countless People dying. Harry's eyes fluttered open to see that a battered Raven with sharp blue eyes, was sitting in front of him. Just inches away from his face. It looked deeply into its eyes, then snatched forward picking his forehead with its sharp beak. As the beak hit Harry's forehead, he could hear an inhuman scream in defiance. With impossible accuracy the raven kept hitting the same spot over and over again. It was a scar in the form of an lighting. The screams in Harry's head got stronger, more violent and pain worse than a Crusiatus curse surged through Harry's body. Harry thrashed violently in agony but the raven didn't stop and soon his beak was covered in Harry's blood. The spot on his forehead with the scar was now merely a bloody gash as the raven cruelly continued his work, until black smoke emerged from the wound leaving Harry's body with an agonizing scream.

* * *

Harry woke up, lunged out of his bed and hit the floor hard. Harry groaned soundly and lay still on the floor for a few moments. He heard rapid violent foot steps outside his room. They stopped and Harry heard the so familiar shouting voice, of his overweight uncle thrashing his fist, as usually on the door nearly breaking it down: „BOY! KEEP YOUR FUCKING VOICE DOWN YOU BASTARD OR I'LL COME AND GUT YOU LIKE FISH YOU HEAR ME!" Harry didn't responded he just rolled his eyes and slowly lifted himself up, using the wall to steady himself.

_Fucking bastard! How could Dumbledore put me back to this place? More importantly now, now that Voldemort is back! Why am I still in this shithole? Why did he put me in here, in the first place? To protect me, PAH! Uncle almost got me killed countless times til I got eleven. And what does this 'love protection' mean? My relatives would see me killed and mutilated and wouldn't even shed a tear. Hell I'd trust them to dance over my rotten corpse and throw me in a ditch. When I get back I want some answers from this old fool or I'll boil his knickers in PIG FAT!...Wait what the hell am I thinking?_ Harry felt a shiver going down his spine. Shaking it off he reached for his glasses, when he noticed something. His vision was sharp. Not blurred, but bright clear. He could see every single detail in his room. And what surprised him the most, was the fact that he could now **STILL** see in his pitch black room like it was a sunny bright day.

In utter disbelief Harry absent mindedly rubbed his eyes. He blinked multiple times until he realize that his eyesight did improve. Dumbstruck Harry made his way to Hedwig, who was sleeping peacefully in her cage. _I can see without my glasses, this bloody brilliant! But my eyesight is better than the ordinary person. I can see everything! Every tiny thing, even in a pitch black, dark room. Gah, I need to wait maybe this just temporary. BUT! But if my eyesight remains like this, till morning, I'll send word to Hermione, Remus and Sirius. They would definitely know, what to make of it._ With a deep sigh, Harry made his way back to his bed, pulling the blanket over him. With a small grin on his face, Harry closed his eyes and returned to his slumber.

* * *

Just outside of Harry room a mysterious being, flew through the sky observing the house. But more directly the window of Harry's room. It flew a few circles around the house, until it was sure that everyone was a sleep. Then carefully, as to not make any alarming noise or attract any attention, the being floated towards Harry's window. Resting in a small corner, the being fixed its eyes, on its target. A boy not older than fifteen, slept peacefully, under his blanket. Its sharp blue eyes surveyed the boy carefully. Yes, it would take good care of the boy, he would soon have no more reason to be afraid. He'll acclaim unimaginable power and strike fear, even into the hearts of his most cruellest enemy. The being, had indeed found a perfect successor in this boy. It will do everything in its power, to serve its new master well. As it always had.

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Hope you enjoyed this Chapter. Please state your opion what did you like what was right what was worng feedback would be nice. Looking forward hearing from you greetings from germany.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry potter fanfic / Darksiders

Awakening

Chapter 1.: Forebodings

Harry slowly opened his eyes, yawning soundly while he rose from his bed. 'What a wierd dream I had yesterday. Wasn't like the usual nightmares I get from Voldemort it was something else.'Harry went to his wardrobe dressed himself, with ragged jeans, white t-shirt and a hoodie. Yawning soundly Harry reached to his desk to get his glasses, and again noticed that his vision has drastically improved. His vision indeed stayed sharp. Harry couldn't belive it, a smug grin appeared on his face but it deflated immediately as he remembered a raven picking out something out of his head. Harry's eyes widened when he realised where the raven was picking. His lighting formed scar. Harry rushed to the bathroom and observed himself in the mirror.

He saw thin, raven haired boy, who wore a confused look face. The horrors from graveyard and Voldemorts rebirth were still visible on his young battered face. Emerald green eyes stared back at him hiding, what? Hurt, guilt? Maybe both. 'No, it wasn't, your fault! You couldn't have imagined that this BLASTED CUP was a fucking Portkey. It wasn't my fault.' Harry inhaled a deep breath and closed eyes. The images of Cedric lying beside him, dead. Wormtail cutting off his own hand, Voldemorts rising. Harry's heart beat fastened and he had took control himself before the memories of the past, took him too far to the edge. He remembered the ghostly figures of his mother and father encouraging him to fight , to survive. Cedric's ghost making a final request that he may return his body to his parents so that they might bury him.

Harry let out a breath he didn't notice he had kept in inside him. Almost daring Harry carefully opened his eyes and looked back into his reflection in the mirror. The images were gone, for now but it was enough for Harry. He sighed in relief, a small grin appearing on his face. He looked back into his reflection when sharp flashed appeared in his vision. His breathing fastened with a worryingly speed. His heart burnt by the speed of beats and blood it was pounding through his body and it felt like it would burst out of his chest. Grasping with his right hand into his chest, his left firmly clung itself to the sink in an attempt to maintain balance. His eyes searched the surroundings for anything causing this, but all of it every pain and every thought stopped when his gaze fell upon his reflections eyes. The Reflections green eyes that were staring back at him, filled with a fire, which sent a cold shudder through his body and he involuntary felt his body to tense up. The reflections green eyes looked back into him, deep into his soul. Then it all turned to black.

He was in a wasteland, carcasses lay everywhere utterly mutilated. Many corpses were cut in half or had various body parts missing. The Pool of blood almost reached his knees. Harry looked at his hands and saw that both of them were stained with blood and both were holding enormous weapons. Two sharp-edged with blood decorated scythes, were in his hands ready to strike down any foolish enough to attack him. He gave a small cough and began marching to an unknown destination straight through the wasteland of corpses. It was tough but with an inhuman agility and speed, he made his way through his once proud enemies how dared to underestimate him. He chuckled as he remembered how the lead demon refused to let him see Orakon who was to be judged for destroying an angel outpost and a supposed rape committed on a young female angel champion. This act of ignorance to the fabric balance of existence and the foolishness of this attack could not be ignored by the Charred Council. Now the coward hid himself inside the never-ending mountains holding a large indepented army at his disposal. _He had until now...maybe he can build a proper tomb for himself now. After all he went straight into depths of the never-ending mountains and slaughtered his army so they might serve him in the afterlife. I could bury him alive under the bones of his former army, now that would be entertaining. _The man laughed silently at his thoughts and a smug grin appeared on his face as stood in front of the once proud (the man snickered at this thought) eleven feet tall lead demon. His back lying on a rock just a feet in front of massive cave entrance. The demon had a dark reddish, green armor, which were now impossible to see for all the blood. His legs and arms were cut off a huge gash was visible going from his stomach up to his left shoulder. His grotesque face was near ineffable and completely mutilated to the point of no recognition.

The demon coughed up blood before he drifted away. The man looked at his fallen, broken enemy his mouth formed devilish smirk before he opened his mouth and spoke with voice filled with cold, joy and an unremarkable cruelty „You said, not mere twenty minutes ago that I would have to walk over your dead body to reach your pitiful excuse of a master. Well, consider it done, this was the most entertaining fight I had for almost a decade. You almost brought up a sweat on me." The man began to laughed cruelly as slowly stomped his leg on his fallen enemy. His left boot crushed any ribs that were intact. „That should teach you a lesson." sneered the man viciously and hateful. Enjoying every bit of this moment the man with the large scythes walked over the corpse and headed into the cave.

Harry eyes flew wide open, his breath was ragged, his heart pounding. His head felt like it was going to burst. Harry found himself in the fetal position. With trembling hands Harry slowly climbed back up using the sink as support. Visibly shaking Harry's body finally found back his normal rhythm. He rubbed his forehead in pain and confusion.'What the hell was that?! It felt so real so goddamn real. As if all things I just saw really happened!' Harry thought and shudder ran down spine. Suddenly it dawned, he remembered the reason he was in the bathroom in the first place. Slowly he raised his raven black hair revealing his forehead. Harry gasped stumbled backwards on his feet and almost fell in to the bathtub. He got back and looked at his forehead where his iconic lighting bolt scar always rested. It was gone. Harry couldn't belive it unconsciously he rubbed the former resting place of his scar to make sure he wasn't imagining it. It was true the scar was gone without a trace. Harry couldn't even begin to describe the feelings he felt right now, he couldn't even gather a single logical thought. The scar was gone. That one piece that Voldemort left behind during his attempt to kill was finally gone. He began to chuckle. The chuckle turned to stifled laughter. Soon that turned into hysterical almost maniacal laughter. Harry ignored the curse and bursts of outrage his uncle threw at him, that he should shut his mouth. It was not important. The one thing that did matter though was the fact that his scar was gone. Still laughing like a maniac Harry half ran half stumbled his way back to his room, looked the door shut. He quickly gathered pen and paper and began writing.

Harry planned to write three letters, each addressed to his three most important persons in his life. The first to his godfather. _'He could use some good news.' _Harry thought, imagining his reaction to letter. The second to Lupin and the third to Hermione. To Lupin because he could know how this would be possible, counting on his advanced knowledge. And Hermione...well Hermione. Harry really didn't know the _exact_ reason, for why he is sending her a letter. One part was that she could help Lupin to figure out how the nelly he could see again. But that was a small part of the deal. The other part was that it was just natural. Not writing to her would be a sacrilege, it be like if one day the sun wouldn't rise.

_Dear Sirius,_

_First of all how are you? Did you or Lupin caught Pettigrew yet? I know that I shouldn't say this but I hope with all my being that we catch that damn traitor soon so we can clear your name. And then finally be together. I miss you. _

_But alas I am getting of topic because I am not sending this letter lightly. Sirius something happened to. I can't describe it but I had a nightmare but not of Voldemort. No, dear God no. I was on a battlefield on epic scale, with a crow which had deep blue eyes. It started picking on my forehead directly where the scar was. The pain was unimanigeable. I still shudder in pain at the thought of this dream. I woke up today, to look after the scar. SIRIUS! The SCAR it's GONE! The Scar is no longer on my forehead, it vanished without a trace. Sirius I don't know how or what happened but I am not complaining. Please speak with Lupin maybe he knows. I don't like talking to Dumbledore at the moment after he stuck me back, to my uncle and aunt, in this god forsaken place. Please don't tell him. I just don't feel like it right now. Please if you have chance or see Hermione send her my deepest regards and tell her that I miss her. BUT DON'T GET ANY IDEAS FROM THIS SIRIUS, WE ARE JUST FRIENDS!_

_Hope to see soon,_

_Harry._

Harry looked at his letter, his writing was a mess because he was to excited but the letter was still readable. Harry took a new piece of paper and began to write his letter to Lupin.

_Dear Professor Lupin,_

_How are you? How is everyone? I have an Important matter to discuss, it is about my scar. I don't know how or why it happened so I write this letter to you maybe you know what this is all about. My Scar uncle, it is gone! Without a trace I wrote to Sirius, most likely he would have contacted you even before you get my letter. I don't know how much I can write, because the owls might get caught. (Moody really did influenced me with his constant vigilance.) I gave a few details to Sirius, so now I write a few details to you but it is best that we talk about this face to face. It happened during a nightmare, curiously it wasn't about Voldemort well at first it was but IAM GETTING OF TOPIC. I was on a gigantic battlefield with mutilated corpses lay all around me. There was a crow with icy deep blue eyes. It started to pick my forehead directly where my scar was. The pain was immense. And after I woke up and checked my scar, it wasn't there! IT WAS GONE WITHOUT A TRACE!_

_I don't know what to feel at this moment, but I'm happy beyond relief. But I don't know. I don't know! Please write back or better see me as soon as possible._

_With highest regards,_

_Harry._

Harry gulped for the first time during this day, as he wrote the letter to Lupin concern took over him like a cold white squall. Why was the scar gone and how? Was it replaced with something worse? He remembered the seizure in the bathroom a couple of minutes ago. The images still sent chills down his spine. He had never experienced anything like this before. Harry shook of this feeling, took the last piece of paper. The letter to Hermione. Without warning memories her soft, beautiful smile. Her deep, big, warm, chocolate-brown eyes looking at him with a kindness he had never seen before, shot through his mind's eye. With a grin on his face he began to write his final letter.

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you? I hope you enjoy your summer holiday. I am so sorry for last year. I was ungrateful to you. You were the one who stood up to me the entire time during this MESS UP! I don't think I've said it to you but during the yule ball you were the prettiest girl I have seen in my young life. I am sorry that Ron and I ruined your night. You deserved to enjoy it. I hope you are alright because something happened to me this very night. Hermione it was scar. It's gone! During a nightmare I dreamt of an crow picking out my scar and when I woke up, the scar was no longer on my forehead. It is pleasant surprise, yet it was very painful. But finally something good has happened o me Mione. I still can't belive it. I dearly hope to see you soon. I've missed you a lot._

_And no I haven't done my homework yet, but I will._

_Yours truly,_

_Harry._

Harry sighed to himself dismissed this rail of thoughts and bound the three letters to Hedwig and sent her off. The white owl flow with a remarkable elegance into the bright blue cloud less sky. Foolishly, not wasting anymore thoughts on his dream Harry made his way to the kitchen for breakfast. He did not the pair of blue eyes watching him intently. Studying him, awaiting for his new Master to rise.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry potter fanfic / Darksiders

Awakening

Signs

The view, granted to Harry, as he entered the kitchen made him snort in disgust. An enormous large, obese man who had a frightening similarity to a whale sitting on a chair, which made faint cracking noises. In front of his obese uncle were the morning paper and two dozen pancakes which were basically swimming in sirup. Sirup clusters and other food parts foremost left overs from a cake, a pizza and pieces of flummery lay, chaotically all over the table, turning it into a new Stalingrad. „Morning, _Uncle._" sneered Harry as he went to the fridge gathering himself some bread and cheese for a quick snack. Vernon grumbled, his moustache quivered dangerously, as once again the eruption of Mount Vernon impending. Vernon yelled, his voice filled with utter hate and disgust towards Harry: „Listen, you little freak. AND listen, carefully." Vernon paused, to check if Harry was really listening and shot his most disdainful glare he could muster and continued, with an incredible loud roar: „IN MY HOUSE, I DEMAND RESPECT! AND NO FREAKISHNESS; YOU UNDERSTAND YOU BASTARD CHILD! DON'T YOU DARE USING THAT TONE ON ME AGAIN OR I'LL BEAT BACK INTO YOUR CUPBOARD, WHERE YOU RIGHTFULLY BELONG!" Harry bit his lip, he wanted to retort, he wanted to smash this whale's face in with a hammer and squeeze his eyes out with his mere thumbs. Harry wanted to do so much, cause so much pain to him worse than the Cursiatus curse or anything Voldemort could come up with.

He was ready, he just needed to lunge forward, take him by surprise. First throw over the table, cause chaos, he would gain a few seconds. Second, using the palm of his hand on this whale's nose, breaking it effectively. Throwing him of his chair, he would have enough freedom and time to use any weapon he could reach to cause the most highest amount of pain, Harry could bear down on his abhorrent uncle. Then he would take care of Petunia and Dudley. Harry snapped out of his rail of thoughts nodded numbly, turned around and continued making his meal, displaying a perfect poker face. But inside him, a great conflict rampaged mercilessly across his young mind. _What the hell was that? What were these violent thoughts? _Harry thought to himself, but before he could continue to investigate this disturbing incident, something, no someone, or another part of his mind, deep down within him, something buried long ago, spoke with a cold, calculating voice: „**You are letting the perfect opportunity pass to teach this DOG a lesson he'll never forget. Why? Because you don't want to get into any trouble? Or is it because you are afraid that Dumbledore would be disappointed in you. That he would turn his back on you, thinking that you would go Dark? Is that it? Of course that's it, I am you never than less. So tell me this, is it 'Dark' to make a man pay, to teach him, a lesson, who absolutely pays no respect, no love, no kindness, towards a five-year old boy. Ruthlessly beating him into unconsciousness and throwing him into a damned Cupboard, telling him if he even yelp in pain or makes any audible sound he would come back and do it again to teach him to tough it up? Is it 'Dark' to stand up and oppose a man and his abomination of a son who thrash a helpless eight year old boy nearly into oblivion because, he got better marks than his pea-brain of a cousin? Or instigate a bulldog on the poor child cheering him on as his teeth bury themselves ever deeper into the childs leg, even holding him so the dog could get a few good bites. You still have the marks, don't we?! I wonder why Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey never bothered to look or even heal the scars. Vernon's belt does leave quite an impression. Why didn't Madam Pomfrey notice your injuries? She had enough chances to see them. Did she inform Dumbledore about your conditions here, don't bother answering your still blinded with hope and you know the answer, otherwise you wouldn't have ended up in this hell hole every year. The real question is why didn't she do anything? Oh, why didn't your 'Protector' Dumbledore do anything?" **

Harry was dumbstruck. He didn't even notice glare he earned from his uncle and his recently arrived cousin and aunt, who looked like she wanted to spit on him just put the cheery on it. But something much more important passed not only his, but his relatives attention. The bread and cheese bubbled shortly before dissolving into a black, green rotten mass. The window began to vibrate and showed a twisted image of Harry for only a brief second. Harry's face was gone, disappeared beneath a slim, bony, ominous mask. There were two small nostril slits granting clear breathing during even the hardest and bloodiest battles. His reflections eyelids were closed awaiting their call for battle and souls, for which they so deeply thirst. Then faster than light it self, the eyelids shot open revealing dark emerald-green eyes, burning with a relentless fire, within the flames the tortured and humiliated souls of those who fell victim to his scythe wriggle in anguish. He will be ready to claim his heritage and his new mantle with all its burden's.

Harry mowed lawn as always during this time of the day and desperately tried to pick up any news from the wizarding world, or more importantly about Voldemort. For all he knew Fudge was still in denial about his return and in retrospect to his last year the 'highly professional stories and news' the Daily Prophet had released he'd highly doubt he'll find anything to his liking. It would be most likely the opposite. Chances were extremely high that the Daily Prophet, under direct order from the ministry, would try to publish stories with the goal to damage or destroy his credibility. Harry gave an annoyed and restless sigh, confused and surprisingly angry that he has to sit with his **COCKROACHES** of relatives. _What the hell was that again? Since when do I get such outburst or even use words like these? _Harry nervously shook himself as a shudder ran down his spine for an unknown reason. Suddenly he stopped. It was in middle of July, the summer reaching its highest peak. Ruthlessly burning upon the people of Little Whinning, yet, yet a sharp cold shudder ran down Harry's spine. His blood turning into ice.

Someone watched him. Harry stopped dead in his tracks forgetting his task at hand, whipped his head around rather inapt hearing a sickening crack of his neck bones. Grumpily he massaged his neck with his hands, slowly looking up and down the street. Nothing, not a single person but him were out side on the street. _Weird I would've sworn Mister Hanson was just outside washing his car. And weren't the Hamilton children just playing at their front yard._ Now the street was empty. Not a single person or even a living being was out, in the streets. Harry looked around and noticed that every single House up and down Privet Drive closed and locked up tight. The windows curtains were all shut, leaving Privet Drive discarded of all life. Harry's muscles tensed his right hand grasped his wand in his pocket preparing himself for the worst. _Is it Dementors? Can't be! Even Fudge isn't that mad or idiotic to unleash these creature upon a muggle domain! What would they even want..._ Harry stopped in mid thought, straining his ear's. He looked up the road of Privet Drive. It was faint, but, something was there! He couldn't identify what it was, but it was there, a faint rustling sound. Harry walked, away his tormentors and his task, towards where he believed was the origin of the sound. With extreme caution he walked up the road of Privet Drive completely forgetting his surroundings, closing in to a turning leading to the playgrounds. With each step the noise, this in someway familiar sound, became clearer and more louder. Unknown curious eyes were burning into his back, but Harry ignored them, continued on his path. A nasty fog fell down on him surrounding him completely. Harry sneered angrily, took a deep breath and continued to follow the sounds and voices of unimaginable slaughter.

As he reached the foggy playground the noise grew from a faint screeching, rustling sound to multiple cries of anguish and terror. There were multiple voices most of them seemed like to come from little children crying in utter fear and mothers begging to, someone, to spare their children. Only to scream in anguish. Harry trembled as the voices grew louder and ever louder, soon becoming unbearable. Joining the voices now were with multiple gut wrenching screams and splattering sounds, loose limbs falling to the ground, just recently severed. _Christ, sounds like massacre is going on. _The fog thickened, shorting his field of vision to almost zero. Harry marched on, through the unknown, defiant to find out what is going on.

Fourth year has changed him, no his entire Hogwarts experience has changed him. But no event has opened his eyes such as the Triwizard tournament. Being pulled into this entire _MESS UP,_ Harry at first thought that Dumbledore would help him for certain, belive him that he didn't enter his name into the goblet. He had to look on as every single teacher he trusted simply shrugged, telling him that he has no choice. _Bollocks, if an elder can put any name of a minor into the Goblet the consequences would be horrific. There must've been loop holes in these kind of cases, when a minor get's selected for the tournament. The protections should have stopped any attempts like these dead in their tracks. Yet, my name was still pulled out of the Goblet. Why didn't the Goblet notice that I was a minor as Dumbledore described the tournament. My name must've been put into the Goblet before these protections were even applied. DAMN! _Anger rose inside Harry as the screams surrounding him grew more violent.

Harry was certain that the following disaster that coming on their way with the ominous selection of Harry as the fourth champion, could have been prevented by Dumbledore and the organisers of this cup. Yet they watched on like the UN in Rwanda. Dumbledore didn't even prevent the bullying and quarreling from his fellow students. Malfoy's Potter stinks badges. Even Ron's pure envy and betrayal abandoning him till after the first task still burned in his heart. He was alright that his life was being pulled into risk, yet again but his ultimate distrust and hate towards authority figures appeared during the second task kidnapping those close to him into the abyss of the Great Lake. Seeing Hermione being gagged underwater and being rescued by Krum broke Harry's heart. The final straw was with Voldemorts return and the aftermath. How the Minister simply classified Cedric's death as a unfortunate accident. Harry tried not to think too badly of his Headmaster, but the facts spoke against him.

Now Harry returned to his tormentors, with his nemesis at large leaving him vulnerable. Seething in anger Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Furiously rubbing his eyes he looked in front of him, were a shadowy figure. It was massive. Even in this dense fog, Harry could spot that this Thing had enormous muscles, towering him with ease. Harry didn't even notice that the sounds of ongoing slaughter have ceased. His face was unrecognisable hidden behind the mist. There were only two emerald-green orbs staring into his. Harry fought as hard as he could but he couldn't lose the eye contact, it was like he was looking into a mirror, of something deep inside him. Suddenly something burst through figure and brutally tackled Harry to ground almost ripping him in two. Harry felt how all his breath left his lungs with only this one attack. Out of breath, Harry catched a glimpse of his 'want to be assassin' and would have screamed if he would have been capable of.

It was huge being even taller than the shadowy figure. Easily 3-4 meters tall. Almost as twice as wide, but make no mistake everything was pure muscle. Harry could easily see every muscle on this monsters body because it had no armor what so ever. The monsters vicious teeth seemed to overlap and could easily tear him apart. It had red eyes bearing the pit fires straight from hell. It had two large horns on his forehead that could skewer like he was butter.

Harry didn't know what was going on and found himself being violently forced to the ground, held in place by the monsters enormous arms, giving him no compromise. It's roar was deafening, sending spit all over his face. Within the depths of his mind he knew he was going to die and tried to make peace with himself, when the voice he heard earlier speaking out this disturbing thoughts spoke yet again to him. Cold, arrogant in some way, ruthlessly calculating, but barely containing it's excitement: „**Well, Greatest of the Four, don't you want to unleash you fury? Once again taste the blood and spoils of your enemies, once again sending fear and despair into everyone who dares to cross your path. Once again hearing the music of gut-wretching death screams and cries of anguish coming from your enemies, sending them fleeing for their pathetic lives when ****they, even smell your scent. Yelling your name in fear, begging for forgiveness. But always forgetting that you are the one constant in existence itself. The last face every living being ultimately must face by its end. All who live know your name, all of oppose you shall now. Death. Come rider of the pale horse, come and see.**"

Harry felt something surge through his body, it felt like a raging fire trying forcefully to escape his chains, finally for first time in uncountable eons reaching the edge of its cage, catching the scent of freedom. Long forgotten Instincts took action and before Harry could regain his senses, he found himself kicking this monster off of him, with enough force to turn the area of impact build up with muscles as hard as cement into jelly. The monster gave a loud defiant grunt, spitting blood on Harry's face as it hurled through the air like a rag doll, landing with a loud thud somewhere in the mist. Harry jumped, with incredible elegance almost like a wild, proud animal back to his feet. He noticed that around him, were now multiple shadowy figures closing in on him. Harry snarled viciously and lunged at the shadow infront of him, kicking this figure in his stomach who curled painfully, falling to one knee. Harry didn't ceased his attack, grabbed the shadows head and threw it over his shoulder. A sickening crack sound was audible as the shadow landed on the ground. The shadow gave an unrecognisable sound but was immediately silenced has Harry stomped down on its face.

Turning to his other opponents Harry dodged an incoming attack from two of these shadow creatures, clung himself unto one of the unlucky shadow figures arm. It gave a surprised yelp, as Harry with indescribable brutality broke he shadow's arm multiple times before sliding over its back. From the corner of his eye Harry saw the other shadow creature preparing to strike with some sort of sword weapon. Faster than light Harry grabbed the crippled shadow around its waist and forcibly held him in the way of the incoming attack. The head of the living shield flew backwards almost decapitating the shadow under the attack of its ally. Harry gave no rest, threw the dispatched enemy he held hostage against his new target, who seemed like staring in shock that he had attacked his friend. The traumatized shadow crumpled under its dispatched friends weight, as it was buried under its comrade limp body, losing grip of its weapon sending it flying through the air. Harry grabbed the weapon in mid-air and slashed through the incapacitated enemy in one fluid motion. Harry looked around the battlefield scanning for targets like a rabid, savage lion out to find new prey to content his bloodthirst, only finding one last shadow. It seemed like it was scrambling on the ground trying to escape. A devilish smirk appeared on Harry's as he purposefully strode to his last enemy, emitting an unseen force, sending despair, famine and death, around all those who would dare cross his path.

The last shadow scrambled upon its fading feet and tried to reach the safety of the fog, only to feel the burning sensation of pain as it's leg bones shatter into million and million of bone fragments sending it to the ground unable to move. The shadow quivering under intense pain, now tried to crawl its way to safety. Harry snarled in cruel satisfaction and ruthlessly stomped it poor creatures arm with his boot. Loud noises began to chanter in an eerie rhythm but drowned by a demonic, utterly wicked laughter coming from the mist. The chanter and laughter only fueled Harry's blood lust and with a savage chuckle as he grabbed the shadows neck and ruthlessly began pounding into the poor, helpless enemy. With each punch the laughter and chanter grew louder and ever louder, becoming unbearable deafening any single logical thought Harry could set up in his mind.

As Harry prepared to strike his badly injured shadow again stopped as looked on his right hand, with an astonished expression on his face as he saw an awe-inspiring, golden curved scythe forming in his favourite hand. Just then, he notices a battered raven with striking blue sitting on his shoulder. It looked at him with curiosity, it opened its mouth and to his surprise talked to him with a male voice ruff filled with obedience, untamable intelligence. „Master you should stop now. Don't attract too much attention to yourself you haven't fully regained the powers of the mantle of the pale horse." Almost immediately the fog began to dissolve and the eerie chanter and laughter were replaced with screams of agony and disbelief. Harry looked back to his hand finding that the scythe has disappeared. Regaining his senses and thought he looked around him. He was in the playground alright, but the fact that it was filled with disfigured bodies lying around the happy cheerful place was a contradiction. Harry's thoughts turned into ice as he recognised the bodies. They were Dudley's gang. Piers hung tangled up in the chains of the swing, blood was oozing out of multiple wounds. His nose was visibly broken more than once, blood was dripping out of it like a waterfall.

Dennis lay buried under the crippled form of Gordon who had half of his scalp missing. Dudley lay on the feet of the slide, blood and vomit formed a pitiful pool around him, his face twisted in pain. Both eyes buried under huge bulges, yet Harry could still see the fear and utter horror in his eyes and his badly bruised face. He gapped trying to talk utter a single word but couldn't.

Then Harry heard coughing and a mumbling voice. „Ple...a...*cough* *cough* me...cy." Harry turned his head and saw to his dismay that he was holding Malcom. Blood was all over him, multiple teeth were missing, his nose shattered. His right arm looked like it was crushed and hung limply alongside his body, scratching the ground lightly. Both of his legs were twisted in various quarters. Slowly, so slowly that time seemed to have stopped, Harry expression turned from puzzled, to shock, to utter fear and terror over his deed. Harry unintentionally let loose of his firm grip on poor blokes neck that he crashed to ground. He gave out a small groan before laying completely still in the grass filled with his own blood. Harry crawled backwards, panting for breath, his heart beat a seemingly two hundred kilometers an hour. He looked around himself to see a scared woman holding, no clinging unto her little daughter with all her life. Several people were running in the distance some towards the playground, other frantically away from him.

Fright came up into his mind, fear of what happens next. Harry only knew two things: Fight or flee. He chose the latter.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry potter fanfic / Darksiders

Awakening

Authors Note: I am trying to improve my gramma and spelling so please comment/ review tell me what I did wrong or right. But most importantly have fun reading my story. Thank to all those who reviewd, followed and favoured my first story I'm really greatful. Thank you all.

P.S: For the following first part I would recomend to play woodkid run boy run.

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On the Run

Frantic screams, disbeliving, fearful looks were carved into the bystanders faces. Harry was shaking violently, fear overwhelming him, like a white squall unto a helpless, battered ship. Harrys heart skipped a few beats, mutiple people, men and women closing in on him, some with grim determanation on their faces, others a mixture of fear, anxiety and disgust.

Dudley and his gang still lay scattered across the playground. Unmoving. Lying in pools of their own blood, vomit and excrements. Their limps twisted in ways only seen in the most darkest, most beastliest wars ever fought by man.

Harry mind ran through every possible scenario within mere nanoseconds and it all came down, to two primeval instincts which still influence our way of life. Fight or Flight. Harry chose the latter.

Before anyone could react, Harry lunged himself back to his feet, whirled around and dashed away towards the exit of the playground, up the the street leading to the godfrosaken place, were demons much crueller than any demon in Samael's Lair dwell. A place Harry feared and hated more than Azkaban. His 'Home'.

Harry ran, he ran faster than any normal human could ever achive, almost competing with Pheidippides or even Hermes himself. His leg muscles burned, pain shot through his body as one muscle fiber after another tore apart and seemingly recompose themselves together. Harry wanted to stop, fall down to the ground and cut his legs off, just to put an end to the undescribable pain he felt.

But his body refused and carried him onwards to his destanation, even gaining more speed. Harry ran, melting the soles of his shoe away, tearing them into million of pieces.

_Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! _Harry felt the hate filled eyes of his pursuers burning into his back waiting for him to trip, to stop in the fake illusion of safety, to rip him apart like the rabid pack of wolves they were. Harry knew that if anyone would catch him Vernon would finally have his chance. The one chance he has yearned for. A proper punishment.

_NO, NO, NO! ONLY OVER MY DEAD BODY WILL I EVER ENDURE HIM AGAIN! NEVER AGAIN! NEVER AGIAN! NEVER AGAIN!_

These thoughts only fueled his despair and determanation, as he pushed himself to run even faster than before, almost tearing his legs apart. It was true that when a animal or a human was desperate, cornered, their backs faced against a wall, surrounded by threats each deadlier than it's predecessor, they would do anything to esacape that fate. To survive.

So Harry ran. He ran up the street, past a few wondering, clueless residents, leaving stunned and exsausted pursuer behind. But Harry didn't care he needed to get to his room, pack his stuff and leave as soon as he can.

* * *

Harry reached the Home of his tormentors, for almost fifteen years and didn't slowed down. Carrying enough momentum, Harry burst through the wooden door shredding it into bits and dashed up the stairs towards his room. Knocking his door out of its frame, Harry quickly, completly oblivious and numb to his sore leg muscles, gathered his clothes, wand, throwing them into his trunk. Harry hurried off to his desk pulling the lowest drawer.

Harry hesitated for a second, as his heart stopped for a second and his face turned into a slight shade of red as he saw a red box, enclosed with a piece of string. With outmost care, Harry put his most vauluable item in his possession into his trunk. Then Harry heard the all to familiar yell, he feared as long as he can remember. Angry loud footstep shook the entire house to its foundations. Harrys blood in his veins, chills as he hears the angry rustling of his uncles walrus moustache.

Harry frantic, looking for a way out, prepares himself for the worst. With one swift movment Harry whips out his wand and summons his desk lamp into his left hand. If he loses his wand he would at least try to bash his obese walrus uncle head in. Harry grimaced again at his violent thoughts but casted these thoughts aside, as his personification of utter disgust and untameable hate, crossed his path, squezzing itself through the remains of the door frame, blocking Harrys exist.

His uncle with passointe hate in his eyes and a sick, perverted murderlust clearly visible in his face. Vernon roared, sending spit and snot across the entire room. Poorly articulated sentences morphed together in his rant, not pausing to take a breath: „WHA' H'AS A DON TO MY DIDDKINS! YOU BASTARDLY, SON OF WHORE! FREAK, I'LL KILL YOU AND ALL YOUR FREAKISH FRIENDS YOU NUTJOB! I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WOULD NOTHING BUT TROUBLE! I'LL ENJOY KILLING YA, HAD IT A LONG TIME COMING! PETUNIA GET YOUR KNIFE FOR WHAT HE DID TO OUR SON AND HIS RESPECTFUL FRIENDS HE WILL BLEED!" His uncles face was as red as a Ferrari.

Behind him barely visible was Harrys horse faced aunt Petunia with two kitchen knifes in both hands her face torn in hurt and bloodlust. She spoke up spitting venom into Harrys direction with each syllable „I should have smothered you to death when we found you in your crib. Than we could have lived in peace and you could rot away my freak of a sister. That little scarlet woman most likely fucks her way even in death. Tell ya something this Dark Lord did a great favour for me. If he hadn't killed, I would have cut of her so beautiful tits off and made her watch as I kill her precious son, while my beloved rapes right in her buttocks. She always liked it that way that little HAG! We should have killed you in your crib and now you hurt my Diddikins. You took my Dudley away! YOU HURT MY DUDLEY! Why? Oh, Why did we let you live?!"

Harrys expression darkend, his eyes narowing to slits, tightening his grip on his wand, reading for the kill. At that very moment the new cold, calculating part of his mind took action and determind that neither the walrus nor the horse bumper would leave this house alive. Harrys emerald green eyes glow for a moment, revaling the millions and billions of souls, that fell victim to his sycthe. Then, so abrupt that even Harry didnt notice, his face changed only momentarily, replaced with a intimidating, white, boney mask, before it returned to its normal state.

But his two tormentors were blind to the warning sigins and Uncle Vernon rushed towards him trying first to overwhelm Harry with his mass, then unleash his brute onslaught upon the poor bloke like Vernon has always done. Second he was hoping to intimidate the freakish boy, to paralyze him in fear. OH, how delicious it would be. Vernon unleashed a maniacal, joyful laughter, at the thought of the fun he would soon have, beating the daylights out of his abomonation of a nephew. Vernon could almost feel his penis ercet at his perverted thought of 'fun'. Thus further cementing the image of the worst kind of muggles ever seen.

But before Vernon could execute, his atoricious plans he was wildly fantasising about, Harry swished his wand in one elegant movement across the walruses stomach. The walrus not even fathoming what his freak nephew has done, coutinued his mindless rush towards Harry, only to feel his feet slipping over something disgustingly wet and extremly greasy and crash landed face first to the ground, just centimeters away from Harrys feet. Vernon tried get back up on his feet only to fall into a red, stinking mess beneath him. Vernons confussion vanished as he heard the air piercing, screech of utter terror and fear coming from his horse wife Petunia, as the knife escaped her grasp and turned towards herself. Vernon tried to reach her, helping his wife then noticed unimageinable pain surgeing through his body. His vision turned to blurry and colorless as he searched for the origin of his inhumane suffering. A huge bloody gash has opened his stomach, running from his bellybutton up to his armpit revaling his intestines ozing out of the wound, which have tangeled around his leg.

Harry saw as a bloody gash emerged on his uncles stomach, his intestines shooting out of his wound tangeling around his legs causing him to fall right before Harrys feet. Harry ruthlessly, aimed his wand at his aunt, shouting the spell „Wingardioum Leviosa." But these words never left his mouth, Harry never even opened his mouth to begin with. Just the mere thought for that specific spell was all it needed. His aunt in shock over what had happend to her husband, trying to process what just happend with her little mind, but was now pushed into the abyss as she lost her grip on both of her knives, which flung away from her grip, only to turn against her.

With one more swift movement of Harrys wand the two knives lunged themselves at Petunia keeping her pinned under continual attacks, stabbing and cutting her mercilessly. Deafened by the bone chilling screams of his aunt being mutilated, by flying knives, Harry turned to his in pain squirming uncle. Harry lifted the desk lamp menacingly over his uncle head.

He had waited so long for this. All the years of suffering, humilation and sickness still haunt Harry to his very core. How very long has he yearned for, to finally stand up to his tormentors, to make them stop, to show them how much Harry himself has suffered by their hands and to inflicting the same amount of pain, loathing and never ending torment upon them. No, Harry will never again suffer by their hands he was going to make sure of it.

Images of his childhood reemerged, being beaten by Vernon and Dudley for every little tiny bit that happend to him or them. Might them be good or bad. The starving nights and days, stealing food form the garbage canisters and watching how his tormentors ate a luxury buffet, all the while he was imprisoned in his cupboard wih an empty stomach. Harry remembered, how he sometimes would've prayed to a god, he now knew never exsited, that he would just survive the next day, to end his torments, to finally have a peacefull life. Sometimes he even prayed to be taken, to die. To end it all. But they were refused. All of them. Harry learned the hard way, that he could not count on others, he had to do things by himself to see them done.

Untameable rage, festered in his body, powers unknown to him emerged, with such feriousity, that it was almost suffocating. Harrys face twisted into a image straight from hell. Only containing pure and utter hate and rage. Harry brutally, with a sounding warcry, thrashed the desk lamp upon his uncles skull. Blood shot across the entire room and tainted Harry clothes and his face but he didn't stopped. Uncle Vernon pained cries, wisped away and were replaced with bloodied gurggling sounds. Harry continued to increase the force of his beats, with each strike, until the desk lamp was deformed to uselessness.

Uncaring Harry threw the broken lamp away and grabbed his uncles intestines with of his hands, yanking them out of his uncles body. Harry completly ignoring his uncles screams of anguish and horror and engufled his uncles face with his own stinking intestines.

His uncle quviered, gurggled and cried as Harry slowly suffoacted him with his own intestines. It was impossible to even descirbe this scene. Blood was almost everywhere, nearly flooding the room, the stench of his uncles excrements inside his intestines and his uncles urine, trotured Harrys olfactory organ. The gruesome scene seemed to last forever, when at last the quviering and squirming of his uncle ceased. Harry waited a few sceonds to make sure the bastard was dead, then stumbled back to take care of his aunt, only to face a mutilated corpse half hanging on the wall, half lying on the floor completely dismembered body of his aunt.

Harry quickly checked his trunk to see if he has forgotten something, grabbed Hedwigs cage and hurried out of his destroyed room, down the stairs and out of his former 'home'. Harrys breath was ragged, he panted for as he hurried down the road and exited Privet Drive.

* * *

It was night the moon shone brightly over the star filled nighttime sky. Harry exsausted, emotionally and physically drained, sat on his trunk his clothes, hands and face were tainted in blood. His heart hasn't stopped pounding, almost exploding out of his rib cage. Nausea flushed through his young, traumatised body and he violently vomitted on the ground. Shaking viciously, Harry wiped his mouth and buried his face into his blood filled to recollect himself. Trying to comprehend his deed. _I fucking killed them. I FUCKING KILLED MY UNCLE AND MY AUNT! Possibly Dudley and his whole gang, too. Good grief! I'm in a mess now. I just slaughtered an entire street gang within minutes and butchered a whole family. MY FAMILY! I...I...dont feel bad about it. Oh, NO! Does that make me to Voldemort?! I..I mean...they were my family but never treated me like one, more like a pet, NO, more like an insect, virmin. Every day living there was pure utter torture. SO? Why should I feel bad about their death? But they didnt desvere this. NO they deserved far worse. No what am I thinking, I'll be like Voldemort if I am thinking like this. But I am not Voldemort I am Harry, I did what I had to they attacked me I only defended myself. But he is a murderer just like I am now. NO, I am not Voldemort he has no morals, he would sell his own mother and burn down an entrie Orphanage just to gain power. No, I killed because I had to. If Dudley would have caught me on the playground or Vernon back in the house I would be in Oblivion and the magical britain would fall to Voldemort. Everyone would be doomed including Hermione. I have to survive at least for her, I cant leave her in pain. So I did what I had to. But what will she think about what I have done, oh no, she will abandon me. See, what kind of a MONSTER I am and turn her back to me. NO! It would break me._

Harry opened his trunk and tenderly took out the red metal box. Carefully he creased his fingers across the top of the warm, faint glowing box. His heartbeat slowed down to a normal pace, tears threatend to breach Harrys eyelids. Harry put the box back into the trunk securing it safely and closed his trunk. He had to stay out of trouble and live. For her.

Harry knew he was in trouble the Ministery would probably hunt him down, to stop him from telling the truth. Throwing him into a dark hole and leaving him, to rot. The Daily Prophet would discredit him, destroying him publicly.

Dumbledore, will probably think that Harry would become a new dark lord. A new Voldemort. But Harry was clueless at what his headmaster will do. Somewhere deep inside him Harry hoped that Dumbledore would support him, help him maybe he would see his past mistakes and trying to restart the relationship. But another part in Harry was highly skeptical and still seething for what the headmaster has done to him in his whole young life. Dumbledore was an unknown uncertain. That disturbed Harry deeply. If he loses Dumbledore, Harry would lose almost everyone, including Hermione.

Hermione was his sole prupose of even existing. If Harry would lose her, he would be devastated. He would have no more reason to go on in his life. It would be the end.

Harry shook himself, even the mere thought about something like that, shattered his heart into million pieces. Hedwig has not returned yet, so Harry would have to find another way to contact her or his Godfather. He thought for short while. After a while, he raised his head and looked up and down the road, making sure no muggle or police were in the area, before he grabbed his wand and held it up high. He waited. And waited in anticipation. Suddenly, out of nowhere, with an loud **crack** a large, purple triple-decker bus appered in the middle of the road. The door flew open and a man in a purple uniform ushered Harry inside the bus. Harry sighed, relieved that the Knight Bus has appered, gathered his stuff and tiredly entered the bus, ignoring the look of horror of the Knight bus' conductor as Harry went pass him and threw himself into one of empty beds.

The conductor looked horrified at the bloodied figure, lying in a bed before him and nervously asked Harry „Mate! You look lik' ya came from a butcherer! Wha' happen? Were ya in a battle, swam in a pool a blood or somethin?"

Harry eyed the conductor wearily. He was not Stan. He was a new guy. The tie was bound across his head. The dark circles under his eyes, almost reaching down to the conductors mouth, intensified the apperence of a man who never slept in his entire life. Freckles were all over the mans face. The uniform was unkept and at some parts even ripped apart. In short the conductor before Harry was a mess. Maybe even worse than himself.

Harry didnt know why, but he chuckeld at the thought, as he sat up on 'his' bed and shot him cold, menacing look at the conductor. The Conductor winced under Harrys stare, as his glowing emerald green eyes buried into the conductors soul before Harry with an unnoticeable smirk answered „Richard, you out of all should know that there a some stories that should not be told. Like for exsample mine. I think that you wouldn't want me to know the story about your mother. Am I right?"

Richard taken aback, stumbled backwards steading himself with a fierce grip on pole turning his knuckles white as he breathlessly mumbled „How do you know?!"

Harry shrugged slightly and replied with an untypical sneer „Oohhhh Richard, I dont know, I merely observed and saw something that perked my interest, just like you did with me a few moments ago. I have no interest in knowing your story. But I could gain massive interest, in your story, if you continue to ask me questions. And I would undoubtly learn the truth. Do we have an understanding?"

Richard nooded, sweat flowed down his forehead. As he turned around he asked Harry in a fearful, quviering voice „Where...to...mister?"

Harry lay down on his bed closed his eyes and sneered „The Shrieking Shack."

* * *

So, did you like it? What was wrong? Did like Harry character development? Leave a comment / review and tell how you liked this story so far. And voice your opinion what do think will happen now? How will Harrys friends react to what he has done? What will Dumbledore do?

Either way thank you for reading / favouring and following I hope you enjoy it next chapter will come up soon.


	5. Interlude

Harry potter fanfic / Darksiders

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Please leave a constructive review of how you liked my chapter and story so far. It would help me a lot, so I can improve my story for the better and please my readers. Once again thanks to all who read, reviewed, followed and favoured so far I hope you like / continue to like my story and that I don't disappoint you.

* * *

Awakening

Hurtful Truths and Dilemmas

Dumbledore reread the letters Harry had sent, to his most entrusted persons he knew. Albus felt a slight sting as he learnt how Harry thought of him. How he has lost Harrys trust. How he failed him. Again.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, poured in another shot of firewhiskey in his glass and eyed it wearily.

He just couldn't explain himself how the curse scar has disappeared, without a trace. Cruse scars, like the one that struck Harry, were impossible to remove. Even with the help of the goblins Dumbledore, highly doubted it, that such efforts would end fruitlessly. He even feared much more horrid damage would be done, upon Harry, by these efforts.

Dumbledore grumbled, it always drove him near to madness, whenever Albus has encountered something he did not understand. It would always haunt for days, granting him no peaceful rest as long as this riddle wasn't solved.

It was so satisfying once he has solved, yet another mysterious puzzle that had taunted and mocked him to near insanity. However, every time Dumbledore would have solved a troublesome riddle, he eagerly awaited the next, longed for the, oh so sweet taste of accomplishment. It almost grew to an addiction. Like Nietzsche once said:**When look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you.**

Dumbledore knew this, he couldn't risk to lose his focus on just one simple, plain, absorbing, tricky, enigmatic..._**NO! ENOUGH! It is just a simple riddle Albus, don't lose your head. There are people, who are counting on you. And you can NOT let them down by being distracted, from a simple riddle.**_

Albus quickly grabbed a lemon drop and tossed it into his mouth. Dumbledore closed his eyes, took a few calming breaths, before he softly popped his lemon drop in his mouth. He stood up and began to slowly pace around his office in Sirius home.

With Tom Riddles return, Dumbledores first act was to reestablish the Order of the Phoenix, a group of brave men and women, fighting for their survival and the free will of the people of the British Wizarding World.

They were the first and last line of defense against Voldemorts forces, as he had a massive league of supporters, even within the Ministry.

Now Dumbledore was even in a more trickier situation with Fudges stubbornness and sheer blindness over the **FACTS**. With his current policy of just ignoring Voldemorts return and declaring Dumbledore a senile old man, discrediting him in public, even going so far as to humiliate him.

Didn't Fudge realize that, he was laying the foundations for Voldemorts victory. Almost rolling a red carpet beneath Tom's feet as he would eventually strode into the Ministry and take his place accomplishing, what Tom has yearned for ever since the first war. Total domination over the Wizarding World of Europe.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly and casted his depressing thoughts, about Fudge sheer idiotic, ignorance aside and turned to much more pressing matters. Harrys scar and the letters.

Dumbledore has intercepted and withheld every correspondence, Harry and his friends sent to each other and did his best to isolate Harry from the Wizarding World for multiple reasons.

First reason was to scan every single letter from Harry for any sign of Voldemort. Now after Voldemort has returned, Dumbledore feared that he would further torment, maybe even influence young Harry into submission, or worse.

Dumbledore shudders at the mere thought of it. If that would be the case, than Harry must be contained in a place were he couldn't hurt anyone and keep every possible harm to Harry, his close friends and the Wizarding Society at a minimum. Sadly that meant Harry has to return to his loated reletives.

The second reason was to keep Harry safe from any dangerous Wizard as the charms and Protection wards he has casted and personally renewed them reguarly, would sabotage any attempt of any dark wizard, who would try to bring any harm upon Harry.

But there was a third and that was the most important reason, why Dumbledore kept Harry isolated: Albus didn't want Harry to be exposed to the Ministry current campaign against the Boy who lived. _Correction the Boy who LIES! _Albus thought angrily as he kept pacing around his small improviesed office.

If Harry would have been exposed he would have been literally torn a bit, by these so-called journalists and his reputation would be pulled through the pig stall. It would have been too much for him. Dumbledore wanted to spare Harry such humiliation as much as possible. But when they get back to Hogwarts at the end of the sommer, Albus feared that he could only watch as, again Harry gets into troubles.

Albus was told that a 'SPECIALIST' from the Ministry would visit Hogwarts and make sure that all was well in Fudges wonderland.

Dumbledore finally ceased his endless pacing around, leaving a faint circle of his footprints embedded in the blanket and returned to his desk, focusing back to his newest riddle. He snatched Harrys letters containing the information about the dissapperence of his scar and carefully reread the letter for the 70th time.

_It doesn't make any sense. In Lupins letter, Harry mentions that he had a dream about Voldemort but only early on his dream. Possibly Riddles resurection?! It would be the most logical conclusion, but it could also have been a vision of what Voldemort was currently doing. But then the dream changed into giant battlefield and in accordence to the information in his letter to Sirius, were Harry once more points out the scale of this battlefield. Mutilated corpses...and... a crow with...deep blue eyes. Mmmhhhhhh. That does not sound like all the other dreams, Harry would get from Voldemort. And according to his letter to Sirius, the extraction was rather painfull and a dark mist emerged from his scar. Could it be?! I have to little information about this incident and it thoroughly confuses me, on how that is possible. I have to see him personally. _

Dumbledore in one swift move, laid the letters and book upon his desk and hurried out of his office, with a destination in mind. Harry.

* * *

Dumbledore strode through Sirius home as he made his way to the exit, catching awed look from other members of the Order. Some stopped him briefly and briefed Dumbledore about the current situation in the Wizarding World.

The news they carried to Albus about the current situation in the wizarding world, almost made him puke. The more he heard, the more his mood fell into the dark abyss of dread, despair and fear. The Ministry campaign against himself and Harry Potter was now in full effect and successfully casted them out of the Wizarding Community, declearing them as bedlam persons, who are desperatly seeking attention.

The news on Voldemorts front also weren't the best as even Snape didn't knew what Voldemort has planned, keeping a low profile, all while Voldemort is recuriting more and more Death Eaters and placing them in the Ministry, in preparation for his coming strike.

Dumbledore somberly took his glasses of his crooked nose and massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to suppress the coming headache.

He needed his mind clear from any troubling thoughts and focus on Harrys current situation. Albus took a deep breath and was just about to exit the building as suddenly the front doors of burst open and elderly woman, with grey hair and greyish clothes stormed through. The woman panted ragged breaths, her face was completely red and her thin, old, frail almost seemed like to collapse all together. Quickly some members of the Order rushed to her side, some trying to calm the old woman, others had their wands drawn cautions and tensed.

Dumbledore rushed to her side and his face paled as he recognized the old woman who was almost fainting from exhaustion. It was Arabella Figg. She was surrounded by Arthur Weasley, Nymphondra Tonks and Remus Lupin. They were all gathered around the hysterical Arabella trying to calm her down. But she kept on crying and shaking violently, warping herself in a fetal position, mumbling to herself.

„Arabella what is going on? Has anything happened to Harry?! I would have thought you would use the Floo Network Arabella?" said Dumbledore softly, yet with an urging undertone trying to soothe his old friend, as Miss Figg looked at him. Directly in his eyes. They were red from seemingly crying without end, her facial expression was one out of a Greek tragedy. Albus shuddered as he saw Arabellas face and thought: _Poor dear what has she seen that would have disturbed her so immensely. _

Dumbledore established eye contact with Miss Figg and used his Occlemncy to soothe her out of her shock.

Miss Figg immediately relaxed, she stopped crying and slowly tried to steady her self on her feet. She opened her mouth to speak only to utter words, mumbled so fast that they were morphing together into a senseless rant. Alastor hearing the disorder at the entrance hall limped his way to the small crowd and stopped right next to Dumbledore.

Tonks raised an eyebrow, as Arthur soothingly tried to encourage her to continue speaking and Lupin quickly scanned her body and searched for any injuries. Alastor huffed impatiently and grunted: „Arabella, speak up! We can't help you or Harry when you are not FOCUSED! So get it together and tell us what happened!" Dumbledore shot Moody a disapproving look, as well as the other three members, but quickly turned their attention back to Miss Figg, who now sat silently on the floor her back against the wall. Her lips were quivering and she looked up to Dumbledore with a begging look on her face.

Dumbledore slowly stepped infront of her and knelt on one knee. He gave Miss Figg a genuine smile as he tenderly, in a snoothing motion stroke her arm. She looked up into his eyes, slowly her breathing turned to normal and her tears began to cease. After what seemed like an eternity, Dumbledore softly asked Miss Figg: „Arabella, what happened? Are you alright? Is Harry alright?!" The last question was more like an order she had to answer.

Miss Figg inhaled a deep breath trying to compose herself then she slowly answered, but as soon as the first words had left her mouth, which Dumbledore immediately regretted as the temperature fell, freezing everyone's blood in their veins to ice. Lupin looked as pale as the full moon, he so fiercely dreaded. Tonks eyes widened and all the colour on her face disappeared. Her Hair turned from vivid pink to empty and cold white. Arthur also visibly paled and his mouth gaped wide open, disbelieving. Alastors grip on his wand tightened and his chuckles turned white and started to tremble uncontrollably as he heard the news Miss Figg has carried to them.

„IT'S HARRY, ALBUS! HE'S WANTED FOR MASS MURDER BY THE MUGGLE POLICE! I SAW HOW HE HAS SLAUGHTERED HIS COUSINS ENTIRE STREET GANG AND BUTCHERED HIS AUNT AND UNCLE!"

Silence. Complete silence. A tension filled the hallway so thick, it could be cut with a knife.

Dumbledore blinked rapidly, his mind was trying to process what Arabella just said. With a hollow voice he replied: „Arabella, what are you saying that Harry is wanted by the muggles? Explain everything, now!"

„Harry just killed them, he killed all of them! I was just going for a stroll through the neighbourhood, then I saw Harry walking down the street towards the playground, like in a trance. Got almost run over twice! I followed him and then...and then..." Miss Figg was again sobbed but was interrupted by Lupin shaking her wildly and yelled in a cold voice: „ARABELLA FOCUS! WHAT HAPPENED TO HARRY IS HE ALRIGHT!"

Fear and panic flushed through Miss Figg has she was shocked by a raging werewolf she shouted back at him with a cracking voice, tears streaming down her face: „I DON'T KNOW AFTER HIS FIGHT IN THE PLAYGROUND HE FLED TO HIS HOME! AFTER SOME TIME HE RUSHED OUT SOAKED IN BLOOD WITH HIS TRUNK AND HIS OWLS CAGE UNDER HIS ARM!"

Lupin immediately let go of Miss Figg and before Albus could do anything the werewolf rushed up the stairs, undoubtedly searching for Sirius.

Albus stood up and turned to Tonks, Arthur and Moody, the twinkle in his eyes were gone, replaced with an empty look. He whispered: „Arthur you take Arabella to Molly and call Severus he has to bring some calming potions. Question her, after she has calmed down, but if that does not happen in one hour, question her anyway. We can not afford to waste time! Nymphondra, you go up to Remus and Sirius. Keep them at bay! We can not afford to lose anyone, especially them! Harry will need both of them. Don't let them do anything reckless! Alastor, you come with me we are going to Harrys relatives home. And Moody call Kingsley he has to stay on standby and pick up on any news about Harry." Tonks nodded and quickly hurried off after Lupin, while Arthur slowly lifted Miss Figg and carried her to the kitchen. Moody limped his way to the nearest fire-place to contact Kingsley.

_By Merlin! Harry what happened to you? Don't worry we'll find you. Hopefully the Prophet won't find out about this to soon. We need to hurry! Harry needs us. _Dumbledore sighed heavily deeply regretting he didn't drank the firewhiskey. It would have made this day so much simpler.

* * *

Hermione sat in the Library, an opened book on her lap, her brown bushy hair slightly tamed into a ponytail. Her usual interest in books were lost at the current moment, as she lazily gaze out of the window. Concern was written all over her face. Since Voldemorts return three weeks ago, Hermione wrote every day to Harry trying to comfort him, to help him. But she never got a reply. Harry would always reply to her. Always! _But now maybe something happened to him? Maybe he doesn't want to talk to me? Does he hate me? Why?! RGGHHH This is so frustrating! I hope he is alright._

Hermione's and Harry's friendship began during Halloween in their frist when Harry and Ron rescued her from a loose troll in the school. That was mostly Ron's fault just like almost every other fight the trio had over the last four years. The most recent was Ron's jealousy towards Harry during the Triwizard Tournament and Yule ball fiasco. It was during this festival that Hermione saw, SAW that she didn't stand a chance against Harry's crush Cho Chang. So she tried to let go, she tried so hard to let go of her love to him. But she couldn't. It was to hard almost impossible. It was impossible.

Since she saw Harry in their first train ride to Hogwarts she was kept hostage by his emerald-green eyes. And over the years Hermione saw what great person he really was. The longer she stood with him the deeper her love for Harry blossomed.

Hermione still in deep thought didn't notice a shadowy figure slowly, with a cunningness of a Marauder sneaking up behind her. Then like suddenly struck by lighting, Hermione lunged herself into the air with panic stricken shriek, as two heavy hand landed upon her shoulders and a deep male voice howled, thundery close to her ear.

Soon this terrible sound turned to one of howling laughter. Hermione straightened herself and looked furiously to Sirius, who rolled on the floor, holding his side in shrilling laughter. Hermione's face reddened, she pulled out her wand with a mischievous grin on her face. She aimed the wand at the oblivious Sirius, who blind to his imminent doom continued to laugh and laugh. „Titillando!" Hermione yelled and she amused herself at the short girlish yelp from Sirius who had tears in his eyes now and squirmed all over the place in order to contain the tickling.

Sirius coughed out a breath less: „Please HAHHAHA...STOP...hahahaha Mercy!" Hermione rolled her eyes bossy, as she slowly lifted the hex from Sirius's body, who continued to cough and laugh at the same time. After almost a minute, Sirius composed himself again and sighed in relief, warily eyeing Hermione with huge grin on his face. Which soon disappeared, as he saw how Hermione slyly played with her wand, limply aimed at Sirius. „Sirius Orion Black, don't you know how impolite it is to interrupt a lady, who is minding her business so rudely?!" Hermione snapped at him, a sly grin on her face. Sirius gulped and held out his hands in a surrendering manner and said in a timid voice: „I surrender! And I with out most courtesy apologise to Miss Granger for my impolite behaviour."

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed arrogantly. She put her wand away and helped Sirius back up to her feet. Sirius smiled as he patted Hermione shoulder „You have the temper of a certain redheaded woman, who I knew!" Sirius said as he winked at her and escorted her out of the library. „She was brilliant just like you and had a certain affection to a best friend of mine who had untamable raven black hair and glasses similar to my godson." Hermione blushed a dark shade of red and slapped at Sirius forearm a bit too hard. Yet, Sirius smirked victoriously as he has seen the reaction he had aimed for. The pair of the them slowly walked down the hallway on the third floor.

Hermione continuously shot nervous glance over to Sirius, as if trying to figure out if she should say whats on her mind or not. Sirius glance at her from the corner of his eye and spoke to her softly: „Let me guess you wanna know if I have gotten any letter from Harry or if I would know anything about how he's holding up am I right?" Hermione remained silent for a minute slightly blushing before managing to speak out in a timid tone „Yes. I mean...I think that...you are his godfather so he would undoubtably write to you and not me." Sirius looked a bit confused and asked: „Why shouldn't Harry write to you, you are his best friend and I hoped maybe a bit more." Sirius mumbled the last part as he covered his mouth over with his hand and carefully looking at Hermione to watch her reaction, hoping she hasn't heard him. But Hermione perked ears picked on, these for the normal human ears, inaudible words up and she shot Sirius a deadly glare before turning to a cute shade of pink and patiently waited for to go on.

Sirius looked at Hermione, his expression softened, he hoped that she would soon be a Miss Potter and give his Godson the love he so desperately needs. Following thrid year he viewed Hermione more and more like a daughter and hoped that son she would become part of his family. „Hermione, I could see during our 'GRANT ESCAPE'" Sirius overdramatised waved his arms around to underline the drama he was putting into the coming sentence, only to get a disapproving look from Hermione. Sirius coughed straightened his clothes and continued to talk „During our Buckbeak ride and your whole involvement in helping me escape I could see how Harry looked at you. And how you looked at him." Hermione now looked at Sirius sadness and hurt written over her face she whispered: „Sirius, I...Why would he want me? Mhhh? I am just plain-looking, bossy know it all. And you weren't on the Yule ball he only had eyes for Cho Chang." She shrugged her shoulders inhaled a deep breath and continued: „Do I care for him? Of Course! Do I like him? Everyone who would like if they spend some time with to get to know HIM! Not the boy who lived, but with Harry the boy I love with all my being. But to him I am nothing more but a sister." Hermione shrugged her shoulders in a defeated way and turned to leave only to be stopped by Sirius gently holding her in place.

Sirius looked at Hermione and had the same caring look on his face like her dad. „Hermione, you are a beautiful girl. Never let anyone tell you otherwise if they someones dares to do that give me a call." He winked at that statement than returned to his little speech „ I am absolutely positive that sees more than a sister in you. He is just a little shy when comes to girl. James always had a few girls running after him but when started to like Lily oh boy I had to basically hold his hand and tell what to do HAHAHA! He was like fish on dry land!" Sirius barked in laughter at the memory and Hermione giggled while she mumbled under her breath „I cant belive he is an adult."

Muffled yelling and shouting came to their ears from down the first floor. Sirius rolled his eyes and thought: _Most likely good old Molly who caught Fred and George on of their pranks. Poor Sod's. _

Hermione shyly with bright red cheeks asked Sirius: „Do really think Harry 'likes' likes me?" Sirius didn't even hesitate. He gave a grin that was splitting his face apart. He conspiratorial leaned in close to Hermione's ear and whispered: „At the beginning of this year you and me will help Harry to see the beautiful girl that you are." Hermione lightly slapped Sirius on his forearm. „Come on Hermione let's into the kitchen. I belive Miss Weasley has once again out done herself." Sirius said as he mockingly rubbed his arm and the two of them continued their walk to the kitchen.

Sirius happy that he has softened Hermione fears of rejection walk her to the stairs. The pair of them interaction and care were almost like father and daughter, as they reached the stairs leading down to the lower floors but were halted by a sounding crash and a loud grunt.

Hermione almost fell down the stairs by the colliding mass and only saved herself by latching unto the banisters. „ WHAT THE..." Hermione stopped herself and looked down at the crumbled forms of Professor Lupin and Sirius Black. „MOONY MHAMMM...WMMMM HAT... IS MMMMMHMHMM GO'MM'IN ON!" Sirius mumbled voice echoed through the halls his anger still very audible even with Lupin crumbled over him.

Sirius and Lupin helped each other up and Sirius wanted to yell at his childhood friend only to see his panic-stricken, pale white face, Sirius mood changed from anger to concern in less than a heartbeat. Before Sirius could speak up Lupin breathlessly and quickly almost in one breath spoke: „Siriusharryiswantedformassmurderbythemugglepolice !Comewithmewecantwasteanymoretime!" Sirius completely dumbstruck was pulled down the stairs, skipping 4 or 5 steps as he was yanked in a death grip of a man with the strength of the great wolf who hurriedly, lunged down the stairs to the frist floor. Hermione confused for a short second regained her senses and followed the panic-stricken werewolf down the stairs.

As a quizzed Hermione climbed down the stairs with the gracefulness and elegance of a gazelle, when she saw Tonks cowering on the stairs holding her head with one hand and the wall with the other. Hermione leaned in and helped Tonks to get back on her feet and saw it. Tonks eyes were glassy with endless pain and hurt were clearly visible. Hermione immediately understood. The blood in her body turned to ice, her hands began to shake at the mere thought of it and her heart was racing a hundred kilometers a second. _Something happened to Harry._ Her mind ceased all other function only the single thought claiming her sanity, painfully repeating it like a mantra _Something happened to Harry! Something happened to Harry! Something happened to MY HARRY! _

She didn't knew how she ended up in the kitchen. She only the unconscious figure of Miss Figg who under care of Snape. A crying Miss Weasley who buried her face into her Husbands chest. Grave looking redhead twins who were holding a crying Ginny. At the other end of the kitchen a raging Sirius and somberly Lupin. „LUPIN SPEAK SENSE WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO HARRY! MOONY! SNIEVLUS ANSWER ME NOW!" howled an enraged Sirius as he menacing stepped towards Snape only to be held back by Lupin. Snape disdain fully glanced at Sirius before replying: „Miss Figg has seen how our golden boy Harry just slaughtered an entire street gang and fat arse relatives. Always knew that Potter would be..." Snape didn't say anything more as his unconscious body fell limply to the floor. It was not Sirius, nor Lupin who snarled dangerously in sheer blood rage neither any of the Weasley family who stared in shock at Hermione who had her wand drawn. Cold fury carved in her beautiful, soft face.

Sirius red faced, boiling in anger looked from Snapes body to Hermione and back before he gave Hermione a short nod. Fred and George utterly shell shocked at the display of the law abiding Hermione stunning not only a Professor but SNAPE! As always both of them spoke at the same time with cheer and joy clearly audible: „Blimey Hermione! And we thought you were the nicest out of our ragtag Group! Look Georgie I told we are bad influence and incorrigible geniuses!" Their joy was cut short by the death glares they earned from their Mother and Hermione. Lupin with an amused grin on his somber face walked over Miss Figg who seemingly has calmed down and might give them some information.

Lupin rummaged around in his pockets for a while before a satisfying smirk appeared on his face pulling out a little box of swiss chocolate. Lupin gave Miss Figg a genuine smile as handed her the chocolate and urged her to take a bite. Miss Figg hesitantly took a few bites took in a deep breath and looked at Lupin with sorrow filled eyes. „I know." she sniffed composing, forcing herself to continue. „I know you want to know what happened to Harry. Sirius, Lupin I am endlessly sorry I have failed you!" Sirius anger, rage and fear about what could have happened to his godson opened his mouth only to be silenced by a hard glance from his old friend. Hermione was in tears as she realised, something very, very bad has happened to her Harry.

Miss Figg continued her story all the while sobbing and crying her eyes out „I was doing my usual walk around the street, Harry the poor boy worked as always for his piggy relatives, mowing the lawn when he suddenly started to walk down the street toward the playground. Abandoning his work which he never did! He was almost like in trance, I called out to him but he didn't hear or listened to me as he carelessly walked in the middle of the road. Poor lad got almost run over twice! I've tried to catch up to him but...but..." Miss Figg stopped briefly desperately trying to describe what has happened. „It was like when ever I got close to him my lungs felt like they would implode and my head would fall in half if I would step only an inch closer to him. So I kept my distance and continued to call for him, to wake him from his trance like state. It didn't help. As he reached the playground I have hoped I could finally get close to him and bring him back to safety. But Dudley's gang showed up. They surrounded him taunting Harry, but he ignored them and then faster than I could blink Dudley tackled Harry to the ground pounding in on him. I WANTED TO DO SOMETHING BUT IT DIDN'T LET ME! It felt like a mountain crushes you to the ground while your being crucified. My body felt so heavy I couldn't even breathe. All I could do is watch! Only then I realised that Dudley's gang weren't beating Harry anymore. Dudley lay on the other end of the playground on the feet of the slide. Blood and vomit were oozing out of his mouth. Then I saw what Harry did. He fought like nothing I have ever seen. He has shattered their young bodies with his bare hands with the terrifying precision of a cold-blooded killer. He has tore them apart! All four of them! I CAN STILL SEE THEIR BODY PARTS OHHHH GOOOD! HE RAN TO HIS HOME AND RETURNED WITH EVEN MORE BLOOD ON HIS HANDS AND CLOTHES! CARRIED HIS TRUNK WITH HIM AND RAN FASTER THAN A RACE HORSE!"

The atmosphere in the kitchen was suffocating tense. Every one was deadly pale. One could only hear Hermione's and Miss Weasley's sobs and cries of anguish. Sirius looked at Miss Figg unable to speak, yet his face was one of outrage only composed by his friends heavy hand on his shoulder who gulped heavily. Miss Figgs voice broke as she stammered out one last sentence: „Harry Potter is now wanted for the Mass Murder on 6 muggles by the muggle police."


	6. Reclamnation

Harry potter fanfic / Darksiders

Awakening

Reclamation

He strapped his toga tighter again, checking, to keep his two daggers hidden beneath his white and red clothes. He hated these clothes with a passion. They only decreased his movement and agility, which in battle had out most importance like a sharp mind and a good weapon. But it was his cover. _A necessary evil._ He looked around saw what he was looking for. Several people, all men, all senators of the Roman Senate, have gathered, prepared themselves to commit an unspeakable crime, that will go down in history. It was necessary they said, he has become mad of power, some might say he became corrupt, even paranoid and he has planned to kill any Senator who did not side with him. Most of the senators were devious, old, grey men, who crumbled under their weakened bones and dwindling potency. Others were grim, scared, cunning war veterans, who proudly served in the roman legions, conquering endless landscape and set fire on any who dares to cross their swords. _Almost like me._ Thought the man amused, as he leaned his back against the sparkling white marble pillar, which like his other majestic brethren held the widely in gold decorated roof. They were so tall they almost grasping to the heavens. The man sniffed uncaring, as he surveyed the great enterence hall of the great Theatre of Pompey. Golden shinning, white marble everywhere a person would look, giving the Theatre almost an angelic, heavenly atmosphere. Dominant, awe aspiring, proud statues filled the halls and congress rooms of the Theatre, ready to defend the glorious foundations of the roman empire.

Usually the theatre was busily crowded with many people, each hurrying through the massive Theatre, in a vain attempt to outrun the roman bureaucracy. But now they were deserted, only the assassins and conspirators remained in the great halls. Preparing themselves. Laying in the grass like a feral, bloodthirsty wolf's waiting for their foolish prey to arrive to their feast.

The man growled in satisfaction, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being on the hunt once again. He never get's enough of this feeling. _The essence of a Hunt, is Patience! And to Succeed in the delicate art of hunting, swift and merciless actions are essential, but to also know your prey, to know what make's it tick, THAT, that,is the most important skill required. And that's exactly why I am so god damn good! _

The air in the great halls were cool, tensed, awaiting the inevitable. Then he came. The man who everyone waited for, strode down the majestic stairs. He was tall, muscular, his cold unyielding grey eyes danced hungrily from one Senator to the other, waiting for any sign of weakness. He wore a white toga with blood-red stripes hanging over him. Like ominous bloodstains running across his. His arrogance and his obvious lack of compassion surrounding him, only showed the surface of this mans evilness, lurking within him.

Green eyes surveyed the man who stepped down the stairs. _That's the guy! _The predator couldn't hide his sadistic glee, from forming on his face. He felt his heartbeat fastened, his muscles tensed and every fiber in his being readied themselves for the kill.

The future assassins walked menacingly towards their target, catching him off guard on the bottom of the stairs. They marched upon him, encircling him ever so slow, yet inevitably sealing his fate and closing the last curtain in his life. The targets face of wonder turned into utter horror and pain, as the senators, one by one, snatched out their daggers. Fear and panic were clearly visible upon the preys face, which turned into a horrifying expression of pain and despair, as the first assassin struck his dagger deep into his flesh. The targets eyes widened, his body crumbled under the devastating strikes from his assassins. The man with the emerald-green eyes slowly advanced towards the spectacle in front of him. His prey almost danced in a bizarre beautiful way, as his body was being ripped apart by the savage, brutal attacks from his assassins and their cold, deadly daggers. His arms flew helplessly around, tainted with his own blood, as he is thrown from one attacker to another. The attacks get more savage and the horrific screams of the victim soon become nothing more than hasty, panicked breaths coming from a devastated throat filled with blood.

The man with green eyes pushed through the crowd of hateful, double-crossing assassins, stood in front of the dying, crumbled, pathetic figure of the former roman dictator. An insolent smirk appeared on the predators face as he snatched out his dagger. Only a few senators were still attacking the mangled body of the barely alive dictator, not noticing the deadly unearthly assassin within their midst. Faster than one could blink, with the precision and deadliness of a cobra the green-eyed predator grabbed his unfortunate victims head forcing him to stare into the beasts green eyes. Cold, calculating, dark grey eyes met their equal. And what the dictator saw chilled the blood in his veins and the purest form of fear engulfed him mercilessly, as he stared into green emerald orbs containing billions of slain souls purging helplessly and in utter pain in eternal flames. They all belonged to one man. He had many names: The Reaper, Kinslayer, Executioner. _Harry Potter!_

* * *

„UGH!" Harry lurched from his bed sitting upright in his bed. His blankets and Pj's were soaked in his sweat, his breaths were fast filled with confusion and panic. Desperately attempting to ease his racing heart, which almost tore it self apart. Harry's eyes scanned the room he was in, with unknown efficiency in absolute darkness. He was in a huge double bed with small tables on each side of the bed. The house and almost the entire furniture was in royal blue, but one could easily see that the color has started to fade. The he was in room was huge, a bookshelf dominated the far right wall of the room with dozens and dozens of books, all stacked on top of each other. There were enough first editions and classic in there to make Hermione drool all over the floor in excitement. Harry was sure that his favourite bookworm would, after she saw the books herself, barricade herself in this room and attempt to read every single book in one session. Like a starving man finding Lindt chocolate. Harry drooled at the thought of this delicious chocolate, recalling the sweet memory of its taste. After almost ten years Harry still had its magnificent taste in his mouth. The beating he got right afterwards for stealing Dudley's food, were definitively worth it.

A huge window dominated the front of the room granting a beautiful sight at the proudly standing castle Hogwarts. In the center of the room were a large comfy looking couch and a few easy chairs all surrounding a vitreous coffee table. The door leading to the other rooms was directly beside his right bedside table and just in front of the bookshelf. Multiple candles were in various positions in the room. Harry grunted and lighted the nearest candle, lighting up a small portion of the room. Grumblingly he moved to the edge of his bed, tried nd on the brink of insanity Harry sat slumped in a pitiful form on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He just arrived at his destination the Shrieking Shack, six hours ago, leaving a terrified Knight Bus driver in his wake. As soon as Harry has entered his little safe haven, he immediately vomited on the carpet. His fatigue and the past events bore heavily upon him. It took Harry all of his remaining reserves and resilience to crawl his way to a bed.

Then came the nightmare. Harry has red the novel by Thornton Wilder and the Drama from Shakespeare about the Ides of March and knew exactly who the victim was. But what was disturbing Harry to his very core, was that it was HIM, who dealt the final blow on Caesar those taking his life. It felt so real. Like he was really there. Like HE really did it. Harry knew something wasn't right with him. Something was changing him. _And that's an understatement. I just SLAUGHTERED A ENTIRE STREET GANG AND MY FAMILY! Within a day. _With shaking hands, Harry wobbly walked down stairs and almost fell down the stairs. Just as he reached the kitchen, his heart began to race in an impossible speed. It was so sudden that Harry didn't even had time to react and only let out a pained yelp and crashed to the floor hard, as darkness engulfed him.

* * *

„**KIIIIILLLL THE HORRRRSSSSEMEN!" **screeched a disfigured demon minion as four imposing creatures rode upon their terrifying stead toward a large demon outpost. They rode ominously, on their small headland towards a heavily fortified, dark wall covered with bones, decaying rider on a fiery red horse huffed angrily, his sharp blue eyes now glowed with utter distaste and vengeance. The red rider clenched his free right hand into a fist, in sheer anger. The rider of the black horse narrowed her eyes and mumbled a short prayer with her melodic, soft voice. But, the only audible response to the macabre welcoming, was from the rider of the white horse, his face was hidden beneath a mechanical mask, which consists of two visible parts. His yellow eyes danced curiously over the disgraced wall and whistled _almost_ impressed. „Well, looks like we now know how they treat their guests. The hosts even offered their guests to help them decorating this wonderful place. Neat." This remark earned him a deep, threatening growl from the red rider, who tightened his grip on his steed in order to compose himself. The female shot the speaker disapproving glare. Only the most imposing and feared rider of the four remained silent. His only action to all of it was to inch his favourite hand towards the hilt of his scythe. He only had eyes for the demons surrounding them. There were so many.

Multiple demons, form little but nasty minions to Samael's tall and vicious foot soldiers. Each of them sharpening their rough and brutal weapons and in immense bloodthirst surrounded the four riders, as a shot echoed through the air and a horrific scream filled the tensed mob of violent bloodthirsty demons. A small minion lay on the ground, squirming in his blood forming beneath him. The shot fired from the spiky haired rider took both legs of the abomination clean off, sending the limbs flying through the air. One tall, muscled horned demon, with meaty wings and green eyes, one of Samaels Legion demons, lunged menacingly towards the shooter only to stop dead in its tracks, mid-air. He was pierced through the torso. It's blood flowed freely from the fatal wound. The demon coughed up blood before its eyes rolled back into it's head, it's movements ceased and its lifeless body now hung limply on a golden curved scythe. Several monster let out a furious war cry and advanced towards the four riders, focusing on the leader of the four. His humanoid built packed with muscles that could squish a half giants head with were clearly visible. There was no armor on his torso, just two shoulder pats and metallic gloves and mighty boots, thus revealing his bluish skin colour. His height excelled any living human. His long black hair, went down just up to his shoulders and only a few streaks of his hair covered his feared emerald-green eyes and his signature white mask.

Another shot rang through the air, leaving a dead demon with a large hole in its chest falling to the ground. Before it even touched the ground it was joined by two more heavily dismembered demon corpses. The female of the four, rode directly into the demon horde, devastating their lines and sending them into disarray. Her fiery whip slashed mercilessly through the crowd of horrific, disturbingly brutal beasts as her beautiful, sparkling blue hair flew rhythmically to her savage unyielding attacks, as severed bodies parts flew across the battlefield with magnificent elegance. Masterfully shots raced towards their targets from the mighty revolvers of the rider of the white horse. With each single shot, one more mighty opponent fell victim to the riders. The red rider lunged himself into the air, his gigantic sword in his right and plummeted into the ground, straight in the middle of the demonic horde. The unlucky demon beneath him was pulverized and a massive shockwave purged through the demon army, disintegrating any demon within a distance of 500 meters around the rider. Multiple fiery swords bursted through the hard ground impaling even more these savages.

The slaughter was immense and within mere seconds a large chunk, more than the half of the former demon army was slain. Massacred by only three riders, but there was one who didn't strike yet. It was the rider of the pale horse. He held his golden scythe in a frim reverse grip crossing over his back. His green eyes sparked menacingly and a small calculating smirk appeared under his bony mask. Many demons snarled viciously at the pale rider and rushed mindlessly towards their death. Purple smoke formed itself around the pale rider as he summoned numerous souls, he had claimed earlier and ordered them to attack his enemies from the side. The rider now completely covered in the purple mist took a step forward and transformed into a large hooded creature. Ten possibly twelve meters tall. Skeletal wings were on his back and an unimaginable large scythe with a blade just as large the hooded being. Carved human skulls were on the scythe blade. The being slightly hovered over the ground before the hooded being dash forward like the wind, through the attack line of Samael's demon legion. Blood, guts and various body parts flew through the air and were all that remained of the sixty legion demons. The being retransformed midair into the rider with double scythe in a reverse grip. The rider swung his left scythe against the nearest demon, slicing off its throat and cut another demon legion in half.

The pale rider literally danced in the battlefield as he sliced, stabbed and mutilated his opponents. One demon prepared to strike against the excellent warrior from behind, with its huge and savage battle-axe, raised high above its own head. In a blur the rider turned, slashed an X on the naked torso of the demon with one scythe and sliced off both arms of the unfortunate demon. Not even a heartbeat later the rider skewered the armless demon directly on the carved X mark on its chest.

Five Demons in sheer blood rage, their weapons aimed for the rider, stormed over the battlefield. The rider climbed on the chest of the falling and jumped straighted towards the five opponents, his scythe ready to kill.

Suddenly green light emerged from beneath the demons. Faint cries of anguish and horror came from the lights. But also distant thunderous gallop and the vicious neigh of an enraged steed. Then the 'being' erupted out of the green lit ground and shattered the attacking demons, shattering every single bone within their ugly bodies, killing them on impact. The being halted and now one could see what was. It was a horse. A long dead horse. It was scraggy, barely had any skin or meat on its bones. Deep, open wounds where all over the poor steeds body, blood oozing out of them in buckets. Green flames raged across the steeds body. The mouth of the horse was torn apart, the lower jaw was ripped off only leaving a few arteries and cracked bones sticking out of the open wound. The tounge hung uselessly from the mouth of the horse in the air, wailing limply

with the movement of the head of the horse. The rider stared at its steed eyes. Empty, grey, dark, dead orbs stared into brilliant emerald-green eyes. „**ENOUGH! RIDER'S!" **hollowed a deep menacingly voice, echoing through the canyon, immediately silencing any sounds of battle and slaughter. All four horsemen stared at the figure hovering high above the battlefield. Two massive horns grew out of its forehead It's, no, HIS, face was heavily edged. His entire right body half was melted in with metal. Large meaty wings moved back and forth keeping him hovering high above the carnage. The rider of the pale horse narrowed his eyes at the figure, raised his arms into a fighting position in front of him, his scythe in his trademark reverse grip. With an ice-cold voice, a hunch of arrogance and filled with venom, the man with his iconic bony white mask snarled „Samael! You know why we have come! Where is the Angel key!"

Samael merely chuckled before he landed on the ground and answered in amusement „Horseman, Death, you out of ALL, would know that, I, respect the fabric 'ceasefire'." Samael made quotation marks in the air with his fingers and continued on. „I have no interest for the Well of Souls. But …." Samael stopped, he locked eyes with Death and smirked mischievously. The world around them disappeared, the distant, aeon old memory casted aside, in a storm of dust, blood and guts. Then he talked with a disturbingly ominous, threateningly and completely and utterly evil voice „SOOO, the new heir of the mantle of the pale rider. _Harry Potter. _I know what you are AND what you will become. We shall meet each other soon, for this." Samael opened his hand and large metallic key with demonic inscriptions appeared out of thin air. And just as soon as it appeared it vanished into nothingness with a quick snap of his fingers. „You will know why, when and where soon enough by your own _Harry. _But till then I will be waiting and watching. I am certain that it will be quite a show." Samael's eyes flashed in bright fiery red coming from the pits of hell. These eyes burning into the very soul of a young boy tearing it apart revealing every single dark secret, within his burdened soul. Then the boy woke up.

* * *

Harry lay on the cold floor naked from the waist up only wearing tattered blue jeans. Mud and dirt covered his body like a blanket. His body felt like it was on fire and the pain of this _**BEASTS **_stare still conquered his body, ruthlessly. Silent tears softly ran down his cheek, the urge to just scream and scream was almost suffocating Harry. He bit his lip so hard that warm blood flowed soothingly into his mouth. Grumpily Harry, stood up every muscle in his body protested and refused to obey his own orders. Harry could feel how every fiber in his torn limbs being slowly ripped apart. After what seemed like an eternity Harry wobbly stood on his feet. He waited a few seconds before violently vomiting on the floor. Harry coughed and cawed utterly desperate to stop this brutal torture on his body and mind. Gasping for breath Harry stumbled into the kitchen, grasping the dinning table and holding on to it like it was his rescue rope, his only way out of a horrific nightmare.

After a few minutes composing himself and regaining his senses, Harry felt something was different. He felt stronger. The pain his body ceased without Harry noticing it. His muscles expanded softly and soothingly, as if reclaiming space long-lost, recovering their former glory of unimaginable strength. His bones grew and became as hard as titanium, regaining their hardiness and sheer indestructibility. Harry noticed differences on his body. His eyes widen as saw well-trained abdominal muscles. He glanced at his arms only to see in wonder the exact same thing as with the rest of his body. _What happened to me? Where do all these muscles come from?! This is too much for me. _Harry thought tiredly. He walked to the fridge with a remarkable lightness on his feet and had a sheer natural presence radiating from him.

Harry a bottle of milk but stopped, his hand slightly hovering over the bottle. Something was out there. Harry carefully closed the fridge and strained his ears to pick up any sound. _There! There it was again! It sounds like...neighing from a horse. _Harry slowly walked up to the kitchen window, wearily, looked at the small hill in front of the Shrieking Shack and screamed not believing his sight. On top of the hill, illuminated by the bright white shinning moon, stood the in green flames glowing pale horse. Staring dead at Harry's eyes. Green flames began to form themselves around Harry's, becoming more vicious and hotter with each passing second. Harry trying not to scream in utter pain, grunted and snarled in pain as the green fire buried themselves into his skin. His vision got blurred and colourless and at last gave out a loud defiant yell, as the house was illuminated in bright green light, catching the curious eyes of a few citizens of Hogsmeade. The Pale horse neighed satisfied and proudly vanished into nothingness in green flames.

* * *

Dumbledore grimly looked down Privet Drive towards the playground. Almost the entire street was blocked off and the once peaceful street was busily crowed by multiple dozens of police officers, Crime scene investigators and crying, distraught citizen of the street. One woman, was on her knees, slumped into a sorrowful figure, howled and wailed in desperate sobs. Her husband barley containing his tears, embraced her in a comforting hug. Three police officers at a loss for words only stared at the scene before them. Helpless.

Dumbledore heard a grunt behind him, turned around and saw a man in his late forties. His half-bald grey hair was messy and unkept. A brutal scar ran through his left cheek, up to his obvious glass eye. His single remaining blue eye stared at Dumbledore waiting patiently for orders. Dumbledore slimed softly, reassuringly and spoke „Ah, Alastor I see you are ready." Dumbledore sighed wearily knowing what comes next. This was a neat neighbourhood. Everyone knew everyone, no crimes. A law abiding, exemplary suburban street. Than something so vicious, so unyielding cruel happened just at Paradise doorstep. Dumbledore has seen many thing cruel, horrendous acts of injustice. But this different. It was worse. Dumbledore knew it, as soon as he entered the ones peaceful street. And it involved Harry, his apprentice, his self declared grandson. They had to find Harry. What ever the cost. Alastor grumbled and responded „Well, Chief Inspector Taylor, we should better get going. Constable Andrews is awaiting us."

Dumbledore nodded once again checked his and Alastor's disillusionment and disguise charms. He wore long brown coat, a two-day old black beard, his short black hair was slightly combed to his right. Dumbeldore's nose was still crooked, which was the only constant that remained in his new disguise.

„Alright then Inspector Denning's where is this Constable?" asked Dumbledore to his old friend. „Just right over there at Miss Figg's house opposite to the Dursley home. AND YOU WILL, NEVER, EVER, AGAIN, CHOOSE OUR NAMES! GOT THAT! I MEAN WHAT THE HELL KIND A NAME IS DENNING'S, EH?! Sound like a muppet to me!" Alastor alias Denning's hissed enraged, his 'good' right eye twitching in frustration. It was always the same, even in the first war, it was always Albus who chose the stupidest names and covers of all. Alastor felt a shiver running down his spine, as he imagined what names his poor children would get. Probably: Harding, Nimwit, Carlious. Alastor chuckled already feeling pity for any new family members of the Dumbledore family.

„Alas, Alastor you are right, but surely you aren't a better example?" replied while walking beside Alastor, causally towards Miss Figg's house crossing the middle of the street. Alastor grinned „OH, I am...and don't call me Shirley."

They both reached Miss Figg's house to see a young police officer with flaming red hair, his face was littered with freckles. His hat was in one hand, gripping it nervously. The other hand ran freely through his short kept hair as if trying to comprehend what he has seen. Dumbledore cleared his throat making the young worn out Constable aware of their presence. The Constable shook himself slightly and stepped towards the two disguised wizards. „Scottland Yard?" he asked warily with tiredness hidden in his voice. Alastor nodded stoically while Dumbledore replied „Yes, Chief Inspector Taylor and this is my partner Inspector Denning's. I take it, that things are as bad as we were briefed about?" The Constable nodded mournfully „They are worse! I have seen how a kid got gutted for a pack of cigarettes but...but...excuse me." The voice of Andrews wavered and broke up. He quickly ran his hand over his face and massaged his temples. „Constable if you don't want to..." Dumbledore began but was cut off by Andrews who coughed a bit violently as he shook his head „NO, no, no, no Sir's! I am fine. I'm fine...just need a few seconds. Alright are you ready we have gathered the witnesses of this massacre at our mobile HQ just down the street in front of the playground. I have to warn you... what you are about to see is ….. tough!" said Constable Andrews searching for the right words to describe the situation. Moody grumbled „Lad, I think we'll manage the bits of blood and guts. Why we're here for to begin with. And now show us what happened!"

„Don't say I didn't warn you. Alright then this way." The Constable paced slowly towards the first crime with the two disguised wizards on his toes. The whole neighbourhood was in disarray, they wanted answers and justice served. Dumbledore knew this, which was why he couldn't let that happen. He had to find Harry. He just had to.

* * *

Sorry for taking so long, I had many concepts of how the story should progress but couldn't decide. I hope you like this chapter review if you like would help me very much to know what you liked and disliked about this story. Peace out.


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